


Once Marked and Never Forgotten

by MsLanna



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, billie lurk camo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 14:41:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11233125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsLanna/pseuds/MsLanna
Summary: Daud left his life as leader of the Whalers behind and started a new life near Karnaca. But the past, especially one connected to the Outsider has a way of finding you again.





	Once Marked and Never Forgotten

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Izzerslololol](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Izzerslololol/gifts).



The Mark of the Outsider changed your life forever. Daud had not understood what that meant when he had accepted it, eagerly, back in the day when power was the ultimate goal. He thought he understood when he finally drew the line and left those ambitions behind. But sitting here, cuffed and under the influence of Music Boxes 24/7 he had a lot of time to think about it again.

It never stopped. You thought you changed your life, actuallychanged your life and for the better, forgot about it. In the end the Mark always caught up with you. He could almost hear the Outsider whisper in his ear, something triumphantly sarcastic, no doubt. Of course it was just the overtones of the scratchy music playing non-stop.

It wasn’t painful. If you disregarded the horrible taste in music. It didn’t hurt him. All it did was disable his special abilities. Daud couldn’t understand why his captors didn’t get that. It was a most inefficient form or torture. Unfortunately, that was very in line with everything else they did. He wondered how they had even managed to find him.

When he had left Dunwall, Daud had made a clear cut. No old connections, no old favours. A little seed money for his new life. Well, a lot of it to be honest. Just to be on the safe side. But everything else, he had left it behind. He had returned to the south and started again; once more. Karnaca was a big city. You could hide on its outskirts with nobody questioning it.

So he got a piece of land up in the hills, far enough to be out of the way, close enough not to lose touch. And since there had been nothing better to do, Daud had picked up winegrowing. It was a way of living and if you did not need to live off it...

He had used his powers rarely. Their thrill had worn off long ago. Materialising instantly in a faraway place was nice, but ultimately useless. Mostly useless. A vineyard had trouble now and then. A good year brought interested parties with no money but excess criminal energy. They never fared well.

And these little excursions into his past were enough. It didn’t matter if he got rusty. He didn’t have to kill any longer. Vine fretters excepted.

Now and then he got news about Captain Meagan Foster. She was making a name for herself in certain circles. Not a big or a loud name, naturally. That would have been counterproductive in the circles she still moved in. Letting her live had been a spur of the moment decision.

He had felt inexplicably proud of her that day. She had learnt everything he had to teach and had had taken it to heart. So when the moment seemed right, she had struck out as merciless as he had taught her. Billie had been the perfect Whaler. She had earned that second chance.

It had also made it easier to weed out the last troublemakers and wannabe leaders. Thomas had been a good substitute. He was less ambitious, less dangerous. But also less active, less inquisitive, and overall less efficient. He just wasn’t Billie.

Too late to mourn about that now. Thomas had vanished after trying to keep the Whalers together. Unlike Billie he had not resurfaced. Less capable, less likely to adapt, less prone to last under any circumstances. This feral survival instinct Billie had carried within had been one reason Daud allowed her to join all those years back. It was also, partly, the reasons he let her live in the end.

Strange how easily nostalgia claimed your thoughts when you had nothing to do. His mind should be on more urgent matters. The vines on the western reach needed to be refastened. There was also a hole in a fence somewhere south. Wild goats kept wandering in to dine. Daud had no stomach to eat all of them in return. Fixing the fence was easier.

And yet, here he was thinking about the good old times in Dunwall while the Music Box grated gently on his ears. Because he still had the Mark. Even if he didn’t use it. Once marked the Outsider’s curse follows you forever. It always caught up with you even if it took years.

As it had caught up with him now in the form of lunatic idiots who thought they could force the Outsider’s hand by carving bonecharms or crafting runes. They created little rituals; they praised and cursed. Nothing worked, naturally. So they had sought him out, Outsider knew how they found him.

Daud smiled bitterly. Oh, the Outsider surely knew how they found him. He didn’t put it behind the black-eyed devil to prompt them in the right direction even. Daud knew he was not the favourite child in the family of the Marked. Once _that_ had made him bitter. Now the bitterness stemmed from the inability to get rid of either Mark or its creator or even his followers.

They styled themselves as the evil that plagued Karnaca, but couldn’t decide between coercing him to cooperate and trying to lure him to their side. Their wavering drained the oomph out of either approach. They did not torture, their threats were half-hearted, their brawns lacked brains. A mediocre Whaler would be able cut through them.

Daud was not sure he had his priorities right. He should be annoyed at being captured at all, not at being captured by a bunch of incompetent idiots who didn’t know how to play the game. His game; the game he had left behind fifteen years ago. Seeing them bumbling along made him wish to be an assassin just once more only to teach them a lesson. This was how you did it, and like that, like that and like that. Stop messing around!

Out of habit Daud rattled at the cuffs. They would have been easy to escape had been able to use his powers. How long since he had last wished for them? Killing was a hard habit to break. He didn’t appreciate being drawn back in. Given the chance, he would have a few pointed words with the Outsider. And if words did not help, other pointed objects could be arranged.

The noise of fighting reached him. It was unexpected. There were usually a few beefy dudes around pretending to be capable fighters, but they kept to showing off. And that right now had definitely been a projectile shattering a part of a wall. A pistol went off. It wasn’t followed by screams so either it had hit bull’s eye or not at all.

Daud wasn’t used to being unable to see what happened even through walls. Now he was reduced to wondering what was going on. A rival gang trying to steal him? A rescue attempt. He snorted. There was nobody in the Isles giving enough of a shit to bother.

Suddenly his ears popped. Daud blinked. The mark on his hand burned gently, boring into his flesh. Behind him the heavy steel door opened, followed by light steps and a voice he had not expected to hear ever again. Especially not uttering words like that.

“Daud. It’s good to see you, old man.”


End file.
